


Belated Aftercare

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication, Communication Failure, Dom Stiles, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Sub Derek Hale, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Stiles and Derek don't stop making bad choices after they mostly get their shit together. But at least nowadays their screw-ups are easier to fix.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rieraclaelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rieraclaelin/gifts).



> For [Jessie](http://rieraclaelin.tumblr.com/). <3
> 
> Betaed by the lovely and amazing [Rita](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com/). Love you, bro.

It's seven AM. Stiles is darting around like he does every morning, sipping coffee one minute, hunting down shoes the next, filling their apartment with his presence, as if he wasn't already larger than life to Derek. It's soothing in its familiarity. Especially today.

 

Not that Derek is gonna say anything. Stiles needs to get to work, and Derek has errands to run today. Their lives don't stop just because Derek is having a shitty morning.

 

He pastes on a smile when Stiles zooms back into the kitchen, gulps down the last of his coffee, and swoops in for a goodbye kiss. Derek is pretty sure he's nailed it. He's smiling, he kisses back as softly and sweetly as he can, and in a minute Stiles will be out of the door, and Derek can go to the bathroom and live in the tub for the rest of the day.

 

But something must tip Stiles off, because as he pulls back there's a frown on his face, and he searches Derek's eyes before dropping his messenger bag.

 

” _Stiles_ ,” Derek groans, because, fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen.

 

”No, Derek, you shut the fuck up.”

 

At any other time Derek would have no qualms about arguing, but he's still too close to the scene from last night. He knows he is, and the fact that there's not a peep from him only seems to make Stiles look more grim as he picks his phone out of his pocket. ”Yeah, hey, Jim? I'm not coming in today. Yeah. Kind of a family emergency. Sure, I can do Sunday instead. Okay, good. See ya.”

 

He hangs up, his eyes never having left Derek's face, and sits down in their tiny breakfast nook on the other side of the table. Derek studies the faded paint on the tabletop, and tries to brace himself for feeling even worse.

 

”Why didn't you tell me last night?” Stiles asks quietly, and Derek shrugs.

 

”You had to get up early. You needed sleep.”

 

”And you needed more time. Guess which one is more important, Derek,” Stiles asks, his voice like a slap across the wrist, and Derek shrinks in on himself a little bit. He knows he fucked up. ”No, Derek, _fuck_ ,” Stiles curses, folded hands clenching white-knuckled on the table. ”Don't go there.”

 

”I should've-”

 

”Yes. You should have told me you needed more time. But that's the only thing you did wrong, Derek. The _only_ thing.”

 

It's a lie, of course. Derek was the one who wanted it. He was the one who initiated and kept begging for it, even though he knew in advance that they'd never have enough time on a weeknight. He just... wanted it so badly. Wanted Stiles to ease him to his knees with gentle hands, wanted to just listen to that voice telling him firmly what to do with himself for a few precious hours, so he wouldn't have to think.

 

He shakes his head minutely, and Stiles' hands clench again.

 

”No. Derek, no.”

 

There's a tightness in Derek's throat, and his fingers are tingling slightly. If he'd been more himself he would probably have seen the signs, but as it is he jumps a little bit when Stiles is suddenly next to him, kneeling next to his chair.

 

”Derek, look at me.”

 

It takes some effort, and when he finally manages, Stiles' eyes widen, and he clutches at the back of Derek's chair like he's afraid of falling. ”Oh, for fuck's sake, Derek,” he whispers, and that's it, that's all Derek can take. He hiccups out a sob, and even though he'd rather throw himself out of a window at this point, falling into Stiles' open arms is the more convenient option.

 

”Goddammit, babe, why do you always do this to yourself?” Stiles mutters against his ear, and Derek feels it like a stab to the gut. He always fucks up. He's no good to anyone.

 

”Come on. Up,” Stiles says shortly, and Derek is still so hooked into him that he obeys without thinking. ”Bathroom, come on.”

 

Derek lets himself be guided, Stiles' hand painfully gentle on the small of his back as they cross the apartment to the bathroom, which was the only room Stiles would allow Derek to splurge on when he moved in and started fixing up the place.

 

”Strip,” Stiles orders, and then goes to fill the bathtub. He fiddles with the temperature, adds some of the nicely smelling bath salts that he knows Derek likes, and starts tearing off his own clothes before Derek has even shed his t-shirt.

 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Stiles coaxes, so gently Derek can barely stand it, and he hurries through undressing so they can move on. He gets into the tub without prompting, scooting forwards so Stiles can get in behind him. This, at least is familiar, and he lets Stiles pull him back to lie against his chest.

 

“You know what we gotta do now, right?” Stiles asks softly, breath washing across Derek's ear.

 

Derek nods slowly.

 

“You want me to start?”

 

Another nod.

 

“All right. Last night was wonderful. It really was. And, no, we didn't have enough time, but guess what? Whether I need more sleep isn't your call, Derek. So what were you supposed to do?”

 

“Tell you,” Derek whispers, and Stiles scoops a little water across his chest. It feels like a reward.

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“That... I wasn't done yet. That I needed more.”

 

Stiles presses a tender kiss to his temple, and rubs both hands across Derek's shoulders. They drop a little bit. Not much, but still. ”That's right, babe. I asked you if you were good, and you said yes. And what were you supposed to say to that?”

 

It takes some effort, but the water is slowly rising in the tub, warming Derek to the core, and making something tense go a little softer inside him. Stiles knows him so well. Knows exactly how to unlock him when he gets like this. When he gets _difficult_.

 

“I was supposed to say... _I need more time_.”

 

“Exactly. And what would I have said to that?”

 

This is the hard part, and they both know it. This is where Derek has to face once again the fact that the responsibility for his well-being isn't his own when they do scenes. All he has to do is tell Stiles what he needs, and nothing on the goddamn planet can stop Stiles from giving it to him. That was the deal. The _only_ deal they made before venturing into this new chapter of their relationship. That they'd be in it together.

 

Derek has a nasty habit of breaking that deal.

 

“You... you'd have said... _of course_.”

 

“Actually, I'd have said 'of course _sweetheart'_ , because you know I get so sappy when you need me,” Stiles says, voice going all soft, like it does every time they finish a scene and Derek is loose and lax and vulnerable in a way he never lets himself be otherwise.

 

“I know,” Derek murmurs, letting a small sigh escape as the water finally gets high enough to cover his chest. Stiles reaches out a long, wet arm to shut off the water, jostling them both, but then he settles down again, and Derek lets himself float a little bit, in a multitude of ways. He's getting back to that place he barely let himself feel the night before. It's an echo, not the full ride, but it does the trick.

 

“There we go,” Stiles croons, petting Derek's chest and his shoulders, touching him in all the places his muscles lock up when he's trying to shut himself off. Unlocking them one by one with his clever hands. “There we go, baby.”

 

Derek sighs again, feeling the tension drift away from his neck, making his head loll back more against Stiles' shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, and Stiles noses gently at his cheek.

 

“It's okay. I should have known better. I should have called in before we even started last night. I should have made the time.”

 

“No,” Derek argues, already feeling he's getting his feet under him a little more. “I could have waited until Friday. I was impatient. I shouldn't have pushed.”

 

“Basically, we should have talked more beforehand.” Stiles laughs softly, making Derek's head jiggle against him. “Well. We did go into this knowing we had a lot to learn. But I kinda thought we had the communication bit down already. Guess not.”

 

Realizing what he's saying, Derek can't help but let out a small groan of frustration. “Oh, crap. This means we're gonna have to talk it to death before every scene, doesn't it.”

 

Stiles laughs again, and the sound makes Derek's heart feel lighter with every ripple of the water. “I know, Big Guy, it's like your least favorite thing. But think of it this way: it's just one more thing Alpha needs you to do. And you always wanna be good for Alpha, right?”

 

Derek's emotions are still too all over the place to truly get into the right mindset for this, but even so he still gets a small tingle of pleasure over the implication. “Yes, Alpha,” he says, almost on automatic. They haven't even been doing it for that long, a couple of months at most. But, god, it's like Derek's very soul was just waiting for it. To lay off his alpha mantle for a night every so often. It's become such a comfort to him in such a short time that he feels like it should worry him more. But he trusts Stiles with literally everything. His possessions, his life, his heart. His alpha-hood feels like the least of it, in the bigger scheme of things. Though, of course, during their scenes it becomes the heart of the matter.

 

“That's my boy,” Stiles says, and it _could_ be filthy. He's said identical words more than once, voice heavy with lust and adoration, but right now it's a simple statement. Derek is his, and it's like the magic words to unlock the last of Derek's tense muscles. He goes lax, feeling the last of his doubts seep away... and then immediately gets annoyed with himself, because goddammit, he should know better. They researched and prepared for it together before even dipping a toe into it, and even though they were both aware that some fuck-ups were bound to happen, it really feels like this should be a no-brainer.

 

“I am such a goddamn idiot,” he grumbles, and Stiles actually barks out a surprised laugh.

 

“I feel like I should say welcome back or something.”

 

“From where?” Derek asks, though he can kind of guess.

 

Stiles shrugs. “Not sure. But wherever it is, I hate it when you go there. It's a place that's really bad for you.”

 

“Yeah. It kinda is.” He reaches up for a kiss, and Stiles grants him one with a smile that soothes Derek to the core, and makes him feel almost okay again. “You could technically still make it to work. You'd only be a couple of hours late.”

 

“Are you shitting me?!” Stiles cries with a look of pure outrage on his face. “You almost crashed completely because I was dumb enough to believe you and your fucking martyr complex last night, so if you think I'm letting you out of my sight until I've pampered the shit out of you, then you're out of your freakin' mind.”

 

Derek blinks, a little taken aback at the fervent retort, but then he smiles. This is why he trusts Stiles with this. Because even if he fucks up he just does not accept defeat. He is so determined to be the best he can be, for Derek and for all the people he loves, and Derek should never have doubted that.

 

He's hoping he never will again.

 

“Okay,” he whispers, sinking back into Stiles' embrace, and lets himself be cared for.

 

End.

 


End file.
